A Promise I Can Keep
by Raserei Hojo
Summary: A short one-shot ficlet of the day Larsa leaves for Bur-Omisace. He speaks with his father before leaving, not even for a moment thinking that his father may not be there upon his return.


_"In our family portrait we look pretty happy. Let's play pretend, act like it comes naturally.  
><em>_In our family portrait we look pretty happy; we look pretty normal. Let's go back to that.  
>In our family portrait we look pretty happy. Let's play pretend, act like it goes naturally."<em>

* * *

><p>He sat in the chair at his father's bedside, hands folded firmly in his lap. An uncomfortable silence had fallen between Larsa and his father, punctuated every so often by a deep, rasping cough, but Larsa could think of nothing to break it otherwise. Instead, he looked at his father and, feeling the chill in the air, wondered if his father needed another blanket.<p>

As if reading his mind, Gramis replied in a soft voice, "You need not worry about me, Larsa."

"Father, you are unwell," Larsa stated matter-of-factly. "More unwell than usual."

"We all have times we are—" Gramis broke off to cough again "—sick enough to stay in bed. Think nothing of it."

Larsa stared hard at his father, old and frail and buried beneath a small pile of blankets. He knew his father was lying, that there was something more to it than just an _illness _that was keeping him in bed today. He could remember not too long ago when his father was quite well, despite his old age, when even the gravest of colds could never force him to retire into bed before noon.

When had the coughing started? When was it that his father began to decline?

"Larsa."

He started and drew him himself up straight, hoping beyond hope that the action would hide the fact that his thoughts had been wandering.

Gramis sighed at his son and turned his gaze away. "You did not come in here to talk about my health; I know that. So why did you come?"

Larsa was silent for a moment, almost preferring to change the topic back to his father's health, no matter how uncomfortable the subject was.

"I came to speak to you about Dalmasca."

"Larsa... It is too late to turn back."

It was difficult not to cut his father off. Too late? How could anyone—especially his father—think it was too late to save thousands of lives?

"With all due respect, Father, I am afraid I must disagree. I do not believe it is too late. Dalmasca, Rozarria, Bhujerba—all of these kingdoms hate Archadia, and with good reason. Archadia is large enough as it is; there is no need to seek any more power! Look what we have done to them."

"It was out of necessity," Gramis said slowly, his voice still soft and unusually lacking authority.

"Out of necessity," Larsa echoed. "Was it out of necessity to invade the Republic of Landis and absorb it into Archadia? Was it out of necessity to steal the Midlight Shard from the Kingdom of Nabradia and then destroy the kingdom to nothing but rubble? Was it out of necessity to trick Dalmasca and slay their king then claim the kingdom as our own. With Dalmasca, we went one step further by chasing after the Dusk Shard! Were these things truly out of necessity, Father?"

"You are still yet young."

"Father!"

"What's done is done. It cannot... be reversed." Another coughing fit claimed Gramis and Larsa could only watch his father's weak body shake with each cough. Larsa's hands tightened in his lap and a feeling of guilt washed over him. His father was ill and he was arguing with him, making him sicker. Several tense moments later, Gramis recovered enough to continue. "There is nothing we can do but press onward."

"I cannot accept that." Larsa leaned forward in his chair and rested his forehead against his folded hands. "We may have no choice but to move forward, but there is a diverse selection of paths. There is no need to continue down the path of war. Archadia is powerful enough. The longer we continue down this path, the more all of Ivalice will grow to hate us."

"You are... truly an idealist. So unlike myself and your brothers."

"All I want is peace. I simply believe it is possible to attain if we cooperate with the other kingdoms."

"How? How is this peace you and Archadia long for attainable?"

Larsa took a breath and straightened again, looking his father in the eyes. "I have spoken to rulers of the other kingdoms. They want peace just as much as Archadia does. They will be willing to cooperate; I am sure of it."

"Willing to cooperate with the empire which took so much for them?"

"Yes," he said, nodding firmly. "It has become clear to them that if they do not, they will lose much more. I have spoken to Al-Cid Margrace of Rozarria and he has agreed to meet me at Bur-Omisace. I would like to meet with the Lady Ashe of Dalmasca and direct her there as well. I will accompany her there as a representative of Archadia. Once we reach some form of peaceful agreement, we can include Marquis Ondore of Bhujerba."

"No. I shall not allow that."

Larsa knew his father would disapprove. He had left the imperial palace so frequently as of late and surely his father had heard about the numerous times he had slipped away from his escort and wandered off alone.

"I _must_. Please, Father. Please trust me. We can all end this war together if we cooperate."

Gramis looked at Larsa and saw that strong determination that Vayne possessed. In truth, Larsa and his brother Vayne were as much alike as they were different. Vayne would never have suggested peaceful negotiation, not as a serious possibility. Vayne would not want to end the spillage of blood. Yet Gramis remembered a time when Vayne, too, had the look of a hopeful, determined and innocent youth before it was snatched away by none other than himself.

Gramis could not allow himself to do to Larsa as he had done to Larsa's three brothers. He could not allow his youngest son to lose that hope for a bright, peaceful future. Even if it was unlikely, or even impossible, he needed to allow Larsa to try. It very well may have been the inability to try a more peaceful solution in the first place that caused Gramis' other sons to go astray. His three eldest sons may have become corrupt because they had never known about alternative, peaceful paths and he had refused to introduced them to such things when it still would have affected him.

Years ago, Gramis had continued the legacy of House Solidor and continued to build the Empire on spilled blood. Yet now, as he lay in bed, consumed by his illness, there were many regrets in his heart. Perhaps Larsa was right.

"Please, Father."

Gramis could no longer bear the desperation in Larsa's face and voice. "All right," he acquiesced gently. "All right."

"I am allowed to go?" said Larsa quietly, looking shell-shocked.

"Yes. But you must promise me, my dear son, that you will be safe. You will take a Judge Magister with you and as many Judges as you see fit. You will _not_ leave their sight. While the leaders Dalmasca and Rozarria may not hate you and Archadia, the same cannot be said for their people. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father. I understand."

Larsa smiled and Gramis felt pride as both a father and emperor that he had not felt in the longest time. "Please be safe, Larsa. I could not bear to lose you."

"I shall be safe," said Larsa as he clasped his father's hands with his own. "I promise you. I shall go to Bur-Omisace and begin peaceful negotiations, then safely return home to the imperial palace. For the good of Archadia and for all of Ivalice, I promise you I shall be successful."

"Thank you, my son."

Larsa squeezed his father's hands and stood. "Then I shall see which of the Judge Magisters are free and ask that they accompany me on my journey."

"Remember. You are not to leave their sight. Promise me, Larsa."

Larsa walked to the window and placed his hands flat against the ledge. "I shall try my best, Father," he said as he scanned the scenery below. He spotted Judge Magister Bergan with his round, silver helmet and it was difficult to refrain from grimacing. Bergan was the last Judge Magister he wanted to accompany him on his journey for peace.

"_Larsa._"

"I assure you, Father, that I will do my best."

Judge Magister Drace and Judge Magister Gabranth. Drace's schedule was full and both his father and brother needed Gabranth at various times around the clock. As much as he liked both Judge Magisters, it was out of the question to take them from Archadia, even for a few days.

"You will promise me before you leave."

There. A Judge Magister that would be indifferent to him. He spun around and returned to his father's bedside, then gently patted Gramis' hands.

"I cannot make a promise that I feel I cannot keep." He smiled fondly at his father and bowed respectfully to him. "I shall return before the week's end. Please stay well for me and for Archadia until then, Father."

Gramis had no choice but to watch Larsa hurry from the room. He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to him.

"My son can promise world peace, but he cannot promise to obey his father's orders," he whispered faintly, a small smile on his face.

He sighed heavily and decided he'd had enough lying in bed for today. With a great amount of effort, he pulled himself into a sitting position. If Larsa, who was so young and not in a position of true power was making his way to get things done, then so should he.


End file.
